


Tattoo

by susiephalange



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Female Reader, Humor, Ministry of Magic, Sirius Black Lives, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: After a long day at work, Reader returns home from the Ministry of Magic to her husband, Sirius Black, for snuggles.





	Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from my Wattpad.
> 
> Also, if it isn't clear, this is Adult!Sirius Black, the one portrayed in the movie-verse.

To you, the most magical thing in the world is when the sky breaks itself in two, and douses all below with the grace of rain. Yes, you are a witch yourself, and had a great deal to do with bringing down the likes of the You-Know-Who and had a very extensive education at Hogwarts learning magic. But _rain_. It’s so simple, it’s so inviting, it’s so cosy. Especially since after a long day training new wizards and witches at the Ministry of Magic, when the dishes are all done, and Sirius has the fireplace warming your home. Especially since you have nothing at all left to do, except love your husband.

“You’re off in your head again,” He comments, looking down to you.

You’re lying on your bed together in the house you bought in the Irish countryside. It’s an old Muggle cottage made with brick and a thatched roof, and yes, it’s no Grimmauld Place, for sure, but it’s your home that you both bought, and you both live out your days post-war together in.

You blink, looking up to your lover. “Sorry, love,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes, “It’s the rain.”

He smiles, a soft thing that makes you think of the days when you used to sneak kisses at Hogwarts behind Professor McGonagall’s office. “You’ve always loved the rain, _________.” He kisses your skin by where your hairline meets your ear, and murmurs, “You’re in the right place for it.”

You giggled. “Sure am, Padfoot.”

Oh, you loved him. At sixteen, you thought it would never end; just you, Sirius, and the rest of your lives. But merely days before you went away after Hogwarts to study in the Ugandan wizarding school, Sirius had broken your relationship off. It left you devastated.

You had then came back from your studies a day after the incident that left James and Lily Potter’s child an orphan, and life was never as it was again; Peter was dead, Sirius was in Azkaban, and you did all you could to not feel guilty for being absent in such a time. You could never truly forgive Albus Dumbledore, though, for not considering you for the care of little Harry, over the Dursley’s.

But that was in the past.

“You know, love…” you mumble, turning over to face your husband, “while you have such lovely tattoos, you’ve never told me what they mean to you.” His pyjama shirt is unbuttoned, and taking advantage of his fashionable ways, you slip your hand under it, and trace your fingertips over where an Anglo-Saxon rune is inked. “Unless they’re deeply personal, and something not even your wife should know about,” you wink, implying they mean something very un-innocent.

“Me, with rude tattoos? _________!” He cries out dramatically, laughing. You feel his stomach move as he does so, and he swats your hand away. Lord you know Sirius is ticklish – that was something you discovered as kids.

You rub your nose. “Well, if you did have rude tattoos, it wouldn’t be too unlike you.” You pause, and add, “I read in a Muggle magazine once that some people get tattoos in another language thinking they mean one thing, but it really means something insulting or irrelevant.” You bring up. “Apparently, one Muggle got ‘chicken soup’ tattooed to them in China.”

“Mmm,” he relaxes into your embrace, “I could really go for some chicken soup…but since you asked nicely, I’ll tell you about them.” He kisses your hairline once more and stretching, moves to sit.

You smile, watching the man you love. The last time there was really a time where you two could be lazily in love with one another had been a long time ago, perhaps as young adults. But ever since his escape from Azkaban, dodging Bellatrix Lestrange’s spell during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries – really, since the Ministry of Magic pardoned him for Peter’s crimes, there’s been more time to indulge.

To love him presently.

He points to his arm, where the two bars lay inside his right elbow, “I got these when you were away in Africa. It sounds dumb…”

You shake your head. “Nothing sounds dumb from you,” you chide, “c’mon, tell me.”

“…because there was always you and me. Parallel, constant. I really made a right mess of everything breaking up with you, and I was too proud to send you an owl about it.” He admits.

You blush. “I love you too, Snuffles.” You point to the text on his bicep, and ask, “What does that say?”

“It’s a sort of algorithm,” he says, flushing beneath his facial hair. You know this sign very well on your husband; he’s proud. “Before I was taken to away, I cast a charm onto myself to always know the tides of the moon.” His pride falls from his face, and he adds, “So Mooney wouldn’t be alone.”

You nod. “He wasn’t, though,” you remind him, laying your hand upon the text upon his skin, “I always made sure to keep him company around those times of the month.”

“I know…” Sirius says, hanging his head, “…but all the years, we always had each other.” He takes a deep breath, and you see there’s perhaps a hint of tears in his eyes.

You move your hand to embrace him, laying your head upon the symbol upon his sternum, and whisper, “You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to, Sirius.”

He takes a deep breath. “No, no,” he whispers, to himself. “The one your hand is on, it’s an amalgamation symbol from alchemy.”

“Yeah, I know,” you run your fingers over the ink. “We took it in sixth year, remember? You kept messing up in it, the professor had to separate you from me.” You pause, and add, “It’s not because of that, is it? It means something, animal-like…” you remember all those years ago, and your eyes widen, realising, “it’s for your Animagus.”

He nods, hair falling into his eyes. “Kept me together, when I was away.” He says, words as soft as anything.

Outside, a wave of heavier rain marches a tattoo upon the roof of the house, smattering against the panes of the window by the bed. You close your eyes, sinking into the feeling of the wet night, the closeness of Sirius and how raw the wounds and emotions are. “The other tattoos are really just a mix of Hebrew, Enochian, runes…” He says. Your eyes reopen to see husband has shed his pyjama shirt, and, off the bed, is walking toward the door. His finger grazes the Muggle light-switch, and the room turns to dimness.

It’s gorgeous.

“Muggle houses are strange,” Sirius complains, making his way back to you upon the bed. “We don’t need eckeltricity.”

You shrug. “I think it’s nice. Better than having to say _lumos_ all the time.” On the bedside chest, your wand glowed obediently, and chuckling, you utter, “ _Nox_.” You pause a second, and add, “You know, Sirius…we’ve really come a long way since when we were young.” You begin to undo your head, preparing for sleep, and go on to say, “I mean, all the things we’ve had to go through–,”

Sirius silences you with a kiss, and as he does that, he pulls the blankets over both of your heads. You laugh, pulling him closer to you, fingers grasping the hair near the nape of his neck. He moves his kiss to your neck, peppering your collarbone with little kisses that make you believe you both haven’t aged a day since you were but children.

“Sirius –,” you protest.

He growls, low in his throat something like a dog, and relenting, leaves a final kiss upon your shoulder. “What is it?” He asks, a smirk heavy under his facial hair.

“I forgot to tell you that the Braonáin family from down the road are coming over for tea and cakes this Saturday,” you say. You’ve been meaning to mention it all week, and only today, just days before you’re playing host to neighbours, you mention it. “And we can’t cancel again, we’ll look rude, _and_ strange.”

“The Muggles with a cat?” Sirius grimaces, “I don’t care what they think, I _am_ rude and strange.”

You shake your head. “No, we’re hosting. And no magic, okay? I don’t want to explain to _obliviate_ them just because you want to pee outside on the bushes while they’re over. It’s hard enough trying to explain why our dog keeps running away, and why my husband isn’t around when the dog’s here.” You ramble on, thinking of all the things that you need to go right. “If they were any smarter, they’d work it out. This isn’t just because of their cat, Pickles, is it?”

Sirius shakes his head. “No…”

You giggle. “I love you, Sirius.” You swat his arm playfully and in the silence of the house, listen to the sound of the rain outside.

His fingers find yours beneath the sheets of the bed, winding themselves through your own like puzzle pieces, a perfect fit. “I love you too, _________.” He lifts your interlocked hands to his lips and kisses your fist. “I just wanted to spend some time with my incredibly funny, beautiful, hard-working, _quirky_ wife.” He whispers. “But I guess I can do that after the Muggle family go.”

You smile, turning to look to him. “And you won’t pee in the garden as a dog?”

He nods. “And I won’t pee in the garden as a dog.”

**Author's Note:**

> Buy me [ko-fi](https://www.ko-fi.com/M4M3P4NJ)?
> 
> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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